


Friend Shaped

by 3musketears



Series: K's Soft Goro Week 2020 Fics [4]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Goro is going to therapy and we're proud of him!, Humor, M/M, Soft Goro Week 2020, Strong Language, gorb - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25231438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3musketears/pseuds/3musketears
Summary: Soft Goro Week Day 6 - Gorb and Fun AUsWhile the once-famed Detective Prince had stepped down from stardom, remnants of his former popularity could still be found throughout the city of Tokyo. Unfortunately for him, Kurusu Akira happens upon the smallest, softest, and roundest piece of evidence of his previous life.In other words, Akira buys a bunch of gorbs and Goro hates it
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: K's Soft Goro Week 2020 Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843141
Comments: 20
Kudos: 305
Collections: Day 6 - Gorb and AUs





	Friend Shaped

**Author's Note:**

> Major kudos to [my friend Astra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralitte/pseuds/astralitte) for betaing this fic! I'm really happy with it and I hope you all enjoy!

Seeing Goro with drool trailing down his cheek and his hair tousled every time he woke up was infinitely better than seeing him on TV with that perfect symmetrical celebrity darling smile. The interviews were permanent; even if they eventually got deleted, they would still be passed around like unwanted children by small fan circles on the internet, the cyberspace carving out a permanent home for each pixel of a trained expression. Quiet moments of vulnerability were solely immortalized in Akira's memory. They were a reward for him and him alone, the lone conqueror of Akechi Goro's labyrinth of masks and shattered mirrors. 

When Goro concluded his time as a figure in the public eye, Akira took it as a definite sign that he should take up permanent residence in Tokyo. In any case, he would rather sleep on Leblanc’s lumpy couch for a year than go to school in his hometown again, so he decided that he might as well pester Goro about moving in with him. It seemed the only logical step after his decision, though it took a few months of haggling and pleading to get his rival/soulmate to actually agree.

And living with him was a dream come true. They had petty competitions, shared meals, and simply basked in each other’s presence for what felt like hours. However, stepping down from the public eye didn't mean that the whole public abruptly forgot Goro ever existed, especially given his prominence in the news for the past year, whether he be fawned over or collectively hated for speaking his mind about the Phantom Thieves. But the number of individuals left who actively kept an eye out for their pretty boy prince dwindled more week by week. While Akira would not mind another excuse to ruffle Goro's hair as a means of hiding him from the trend-following masses, it was more peaceful this way. There was no need to worry about being recognized or hassled when they went out on dates—Goro rolled his eyes whenever he referred to their outings as such, but he also shared a bed with Akira and let the other boy kiss him—because they could just relax and coexist. 

During the era of the Detective Prince, Akira didn't really think of Goro in terms of him being a celebrity. He was getting to know Goro as a person, not a brand. The cheerful boy on TV was almost a distinct entity from the one who rambled excitedly on the phone for hours, the one who randomly spilled all his baggage at Akira's feet because he'd never had anyone who cared enough about him to listen to it before. This messy, awkward, and troubled version of Goro was the boy whom Akira fell in love with. Interviews about the Phantom Thieves investigation were viewed more as intel-gathering than a window into Goro's authentic personality.

Seeing the Phantom Thieves’ name be taken advantage of by companies looking for money had been a surreal and frightening experience. Masks and calling cards flew of the shelves at an alarming rate. They were no longer a cause or a sense of justice. They'd become a passing trend, a petty fad. Goro's popularity was always directly tied to theirs, always inversely related.

So, it shouldn't have surprised Akira as much as it did that someone out there was making bootleg Detective Prince merchandise. 

While messing around to see how cognition made certain objects function in the Metaverse, Akira stumbled upon plenty of hidden gems scattered throughout all of Tokyo, many of which had even more precious jewels buried in their clearance sections. The Metaverse left Akira with a bit of a surplus of money, but the excessive train costs were enough to warrant him cutting down costs in other areas. With the Metaverse (and, therefore, his primary source of income) depleted, Akira maintained his habit of discount-hunting past his Phantom Thief days. And maybe he wanted to save up to buy Goro nice things too. 

The little business he found himself in was the general store in Shibuya where calling cards, masks, and whatever the hell “phantom wafers” were once lined the shelves. There was a little display of small assorted plushies on sale, all very generously discounted. Akira picked up a round, wonderfully spherical one that bore the likeness of a precious bean whom he got to kiss every day. 

“Holy fuck.”

The cashier startled when Akira dropped as many of the plushies as he could physically hold in his arms onto the counter. He scanned one, then tried to count all of them so he could input a number into the computer. As Akira was signing off on this absurd impulse purchase, the cashier pushed all the orbs into a plastic bag, their little stitched faces unchanging as they rolled off the counter. “Here you go, sir. Um… Have a nice day.”

Any intentions Akira had of visiting any other stores completely vanished and he boarded the train with fifty-six “ _royal investigator orbs_ ” in tow.

The smell of fresh curry wafted under the door while Goro fumbled for the keys buried deep in his coat pockets. Whenever Goro worked late, he always knew that Akira would be waiting with a warm meal for both of them. It wasn’t anything all that unusual at this point, but years without someone to come home to and a lifetime without home-cooked meals made such a simple thing still seem like a novelty in Goro’s eyes. He found his keys, smiled at the little bird keychain from Akira dangling off the keyring, and unlocked the door. Directly in his line of sight was his wonderful boyfriend setting a hot plate on the table.

Akira’s face had lit up at the sound of the door opening. He looked like a housewife with his oven mitts and his apron wrapped tied tight around his waist. The table was set with cute placemats that they had found at a discount store together. The sheer domesticity of it all made Goro feel overcome with the urge to play into their old teasing routine. “Honey, I’m home!” Goro announced.

After setting down their plates, Akira ambled across the room to cup Goro’s face and kiss him. The clumsy oven mitts pressed to Goro’s cheeks were still warm but comfortably so. Goro did his best to return the kiss after his initial shock, stiffly wrapping his arms around Akira’s waist and toying with the tie on his apron. 

Akira parted away just enough to whisper into his mouth, “Welcome home, honey. You can untie that, you know.” Goro laughed nervously and pulled out the hastily tied bow. Akira stood slightly on his tiptoes to kiss Goro’s forehead before separating. “I’ll smother you in affection some more later. I’d hate for the food to get cold because I got so caught up in how beautiful you are.”

Goro scoffed and lightly smacked his arm. “You are so utterly full of shit, you smug asshole.” A few months ago, such words would have burst through the dam of his sealed lips as a tortured scream in a flood of frustration, with Goro unable to accept praise in any form and trying to wash away anyone who dared give it to him. He still had trouble comprehending compliments and believing that he was beautiful, but the euphoria of coming home to such tangible love swept him off his feet, freeing them from the hardened concrete that he so often found himself trapped in. 

As expected, the curry was absolutely delicious. Akira always took care to make two separate pots: one sweet and mild and the other rich with spices. In return, Goro took care to make sure that they had plenty of mints and gum on hand so he wouldn’t incinerate whenever Akira kissed him. Intimacy and its foreignness were already enough to make him burst into flames on their own. They didn’t need any help from Akira’s curry dragon breath. 

“So.” Akira propped his elbows on the table and rested his head on his hands. “How was work today?”

Goro set his spoon down. “Fine. Uneventful. Sae-san just had me filing and reading over some paperwork for most of the day. She did get a new case though. That’s why I was out a little later. She refused to let me stay overtime, even though she’s likely still at the office herself.”

“Oh, what kind of case?” Akira asked. “Or can you not tell me?”

“It’s on the news anyway, and I know you’re good with secrets,” Goro replied. He would say it took a good liar to be a Phantom Thief, but Sakamoto Ryuji was also a Phantom Thief, so that was outright false. “There was a break-in. Tomorrow, I’ll be on-site gathering evidence to try and determine the culprit.”

Akira winced slightly, “Stay safe. And watch out for broken glass."

With an undignified huff, Goro scooped up another spoonful of rice. "Of course. I know that. I'm not some incompetent amateur."

"Yeah, I know that, but you're my boyfriend. It's my job to fuss over you," Akira insisted. He cleaned off his own spoon with his mouth before reaching over to dip it into Goro's bowl. Curry dripped off of it as he held it up to Goro's mouth.

As if Akira's fussing was a boyfriend-exclusive bonus. This idiot martyr boy worked five jobs and spent a whole year using that money to feed and arm eight of his friends and his cat. Several times, while they were out on a date or just getting groceries, they'd ran into some random friend of Akira's—sometimes grown adults, sometimes teens or even elementary schoolers—who proceeded to gush about the amazing things Akira had done for them. 

One time he had popped into Akira's job at a crossdressing bar in Shujinku to walk him home. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to melt into a pathetic pink puddle on the floor at the sight of Akira all dolled up. As soon as Akira had addressed him by name, the drunken woman at the counter and the bartender behind it had both directed all their focus at him, telling him how lucky he was to have such a wonderful and caring boyfriend. Akira had laughed and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck before leaving a dark red lipstick stain on Goro's cheek.

Another time—Come to think of it, that was also in Shujinku. Why did Akira spend so much time in Shujinku?—Akira had taken Goro's gloved hand and pulled him over to a little table just slightly off from the main street. The petite woman in purple seated behind it had widened her eyes curiously as soon as she spotted him. Goro felt a bit like a previously undiscovered organism under a powerful microscope. He swore this woman could see into his pores. Without prompting, she had laid out a formation of cards that Goro doubted Akira actually understood, flipping the one in the center over with great focus. Despite never having believed in any gods or supernatural forces, Goro had felt his heart pumping in his ribcage. She had given him a reassuring smile, then turned to Akira with a cheekier grin. "He's a keeper," the fortune-teller said, then faced Goro again. "Kurusu-kun helped me change my fate. The cards say that he has done the same for you, though on an even grander scale." Goro could read. He could even translate the basic french: Justice and Fool. He had no idea where she was getting all this stuff about Goro's dreadful fate from. "You are very fortunate to be his soulmate."

In both instances, Goro had simply responded, "I know."

Now, Goro brought these memories to mind along with the ones of bandages in safe rooms and listening to his whiny cat. "You fuss over everyone," Goro said. He opened his mouth to accept being fed by his sappy trickster, then swallowed. "If our landlord didn't have a rule against pets, I bet you'd fuss over every stray cat that you can find in all of Tokyo."

To Goro's horror, Akira seemed to consider this a challenge. Being mortified by that was awfully hypocritical, even for him. Goro was the one who let their homoerotic rivalry occasionally turn him into an elementary school goblin child who was ready to compete to see who could change clothes faster or finish the Big Bang Burger challenge first. (Goro only ate three bites before his poor stomach, so used to skipping meals and singular apples, hit the abort button and rendered him incapable of motion for a whole hour. He spared the world his horrible joke about this being Okumura's revenge because only he would find it even remotely funny.)

"Didn't stop me from keeping Morgana," Akira replied, and uh oh, he had his Joker face on now. And bigger uh oh, it turned Goro into a hormonal preteen girl squealing into her pillow upon discovering a giant poster of her favorite male idol in her latest teen magazine. "Actually, I did buy us a new friend today."

"Oh? Did you find a companion for Roomba-san?" Goro asked. Maybe giving the little robot a friend would encourage Goro to break out of his weird ritual of telling it more about his feelings than he told his therapist. It was his one of many tendencies leftover from living alone and having no friends to talk to. 

Joker intensified, though with a dorkier edge. "Even better. Close your eyes." Goro complied. He heard Akira rustling through a plastic bag. When he spoke again, Akira's voice was closer to his ears. "Hold out your hands. But don't open your eyes until I say so."

Goro wished he was more comfortable without his gloves, simply so he could get a better feel of what surprise Joker had in store for him today. The object that had been placed in his open palms was round, though that left a myriad of options such as a ball or an ornament. He didn't try to squeeze it in fear of it being the latter or something similarly fragile.

"Now, open them."

Two little black embroidered eyes and a tiny stitched smile bore into his soul. They stared up at him, unblinking, unnerving. It was a vessel of stuffing and fabric, squishable and soft. Goro squeezed his hand around its round form, observing how it contorted the detailed jacket printed onto the plush. 

"IS THIS ME AS A FUCKING ORB?!" Goro screeched.

The sound of Akira's laughter made Goro glance up at him. The bastard was filming his reaction. Goro tossed the plush at his camera, but a combination of his bad aim and Akira's cat-like reflexes guided it towards Akira's hand. "Come on, Goro," Akira teased, approaching him with both the phone and the plush. "Look at his little tie! He's so cute!"

"I do not look like that," Goro snarled. He swatted at Akira to bat at least one of the offending objects out of his clutches, but Joker dodged with ease.

"You're even wearing the same outfit!" Akira held out the plush so that the phone camera caught them side by side for the sake of comparison. That _thing_ only looked like Goro if he was standing in front of a particularly distorted funhouse mirror and then someone used photoshop to remove his arms, legs, and neck.

"Joker," Goro started darkly, "why the fuck did you buy this." He knew the answer. It was because his boyfriend was a little attic trash shit who liked getting a rise out of him.

"Goro, he's spherical. How could I _not_ give him a loving home?"

"Wh- _spherical?_ "

"And he's you! He's shaped like a friend," Akira cooed, petting the plush's "hair" with his thumb and making dumb faces at it as if soothing a baby. Which was stupid. That thing had to have even less of a soul than most inanimate objects. 

"I'm not a friend," Goro replied, which was even stupider than Akira nurturing the fucking orb simply because it sounded so incredibly childish.

Akira pressed the plush against Goro's cheek. He hated to admit that it felt very soft. "No, you're a boyfriend." Akira grinned like it was some big secret kept between school children. "I think that's even better."

Curse this beautiful boy and his uncanny ability to make Akechi "my history of abandonment has rendered me nearly incapable of relating to and trusting other people" Goro love him so much. He was wound so tight around Akira's finger that he was practically a part of Joker's red gloves. "Ugh. You're so gross," Goro complained as he very willingly put up with Akira kissing all over his face and snuggling him with the plush.

“You know you love it,” Akira teased, knowing full well that Goro would never admit to feeling that way without a few days of coaxing. It was a bit hard for Goro to finish his food with Akira on top of him, and he’d likely cry if any curry stained his coat since he would be wearing it again tomorrow for work.

“He’s a keychain too,” Akira pointed out, shaking the orb so the ball chain flopped over its head and into Goro’s line of sight. “You could put him on your briefcase. A little Goro Jr.”

“I’m not doing that.” Goro added, “And you are _not_ calling it Goro Jr.”

“Babykechi.”

“No.”

“Minikechi.”

“Still no.”

Akira shoved it right in his face so that its emotionless black eyes were a blur directly in front of him. “Then, you name him! He’s our son!”

Goro entered a staring contest against an inanimate object that wore a disproportionate version of his likeness and that couldn’t blink. Surprise, surprise. He lost. “Absolutely not.”

“Fine, but don’t get upset if I give him a name you don’t like.” Akira hummed thoughtfully and Goro felt a sudden pang of genuine fear. Goro would not consider himself someone with the greatest penchant for humor outside the catalog of lines that he came up with for his Detective Prince act, all erring on the side of making him look a bit charmingly ditzy while not detracting from his legitimacy as a serious detective. Sakamoto once asked him if he’d ever made a joke before in his life, a comment which he, being himself, took very personally and saw as a challenge to prove that he could be funny. The results were not ideal. 

Apparently, what he used on all those talk show audiences came across as “cringeworthy”. He believed the term that Sakura used while banging her head into the table and begging him to shut up was a “dad joke”. Goro’s second attempt was to give breath to the thoughts in his head that he found amusing. Unfortunately, his thoughts tended to be concerning to others and made for very unsettling jokes. Apparently, only Goro found humor in his self-loathing and should probably be talking about that with his therapist. A few of the lighter ones got a chuckle from Akira or Yoshizawa, but overall, he deemed this challenge a defeat.

The codename Joker, Goro realized, wasn’t merely for dramatics. Akira was funny. This was probably part of what made him so good for Goro, who so easily slipped into despair, becoming blinded by the thunder clouds above him to the sun that waited past them. Akira's artful comedy sprung from a combination of impeccable timing and delivery to match his unwavering Moai statue face. The worst puns on the planet could still be funny when read in Akira's deadpan voice. The petty part of Goro's brain noted that most of his dorkier antics _were_ (unlike the fussing) a boyfriend exclusive. Goro's beloved clown boy revealed his true form to be that of a major goofball who liked trying on random things in stores and taking dumb pictures.

Joker held the orb in his palm like he was Hamlet giving a speech to Yoruk’s skull. “I henceforth dub thee: Gorb.”

Goro didn’t know what he was expecting, but that had to be the worst possible thing Akira could say. “ _What_.”

“Gorb. It’s Goro and orb smashed together,” Akira explained as if Goro’s confusion lay in the entomology rather than why the fuck Akira would ever think that it was remotely okay to create such an abomination of a term.

The orb’s fabricated face was a series of stitches, unmoving and constant with its dead eyes and little v-shaped mouth. And yet, Goro felt like it was laughing at him, its stitched smile tearing open to reveal triangular felt teeth and a black hole. “I’m not calling it that.”

“To Gorb, or not to Gorb, that is the question.”

“I hate it with every cell in my body.”

“Come on, Goro. Look at this precious little face. He’s so cute.” In Goro's opinion, _dead inside_ seemed more apt than _cute_. At Goro’s eye roll, Akira added, “Not as cute as the real deal though.”

Goro pretended the noise he made was just a cough and not him choking on his own spit. He probably didn’t fool Akira. “You’re ridiculous,” Goro huffed in an embarrassingly strangled voice.

The kiss Akira planted on his lips was an injection of spicy curry right into his cheeks. Goro found himself torn between leaning into it and breaking off to waterfall a ton of milk right out of the carton. The latter option would leave him feeling soaked and bloated for the remainder of the evening, so he put up with Akira casting Agidyne and sending it down his throat. Spicy food and Kurusu Akira combined were a perfect recipe for frying Goro into a flustered red takoyaki. 

Speaking of things that were round and had embarrassed Goro before, he felt Akira’s traitorous hand trailing down from his neck to his chest and sneaking the plush into his coat. Akira broke off their kiss with a lopsided grin and glanced down at his handiwork, then at Goro’s flushed face. “See? Definitely cuter.”

Upon looking down, Goro saw that Akira had lined up the deep neck of his coat with that of the plush. Admittedly, it was quite endearing. Goro chose to focus on the fact that his own tie was crooked now, and a sign of something other than annoyance would only encourage Akira to continue his antics. He seemed to get a kick out of Goro scowling at him too. With a heavy sigh, Goro nestled the orb in Akira's nest of hair. “I'm going to bed. Come join me when you're done being four years old.”

That was a lie. Goro brushed his teeth and did his strict ten-step skin routine. Once he was positive that he’d done all the zit prevention in the world, he went to bed.

In the dead of night, warm arms snaked around Goro's waist and hot breath blew at the nape of his neck. Despite having mostly gotten used to sharing a bed with Akira, Goro wasn't quite sure if he would ever really adjust to having another person hold him, especially for hours at a time each night. Regardless, something felt different tonight.

“You’re insufferable.” 

“Good night, honey.”

Goro went to sleep with a spherical version of himself being snuggled against his stomach.

Goro deliberately parked his bicycle about a block away from the scene of the crime before taking up a brisk gay power walk the rest of the way with his briefcase bouncing against his leg. It’d come to his attention since his retirement from fame that people his age found his ride of choice to be quite dorky, as pointed out by Sakamoto ringing the little bell enough times to break it and telling him that he was a murderous mega nerd. In the Detective Prince days, people already discredited him enough behind his back due to his age and celebrity status, so he hadn’t deemed the bike to be childish. He just thought that it was practical. The issue of his age still remained, but while his therapist and boyfriend advised him to stop trying to be an adult too early, it was a must professionally. And he could see why it would be much more reassuring for any victim to see a highly qualified detective arrive at the scene than it would be to see a little nerd child who somehow got a job poking around.

Once it was just him and Sae, however, he could be a good boy and listen to his doctor without being scolded or frowned at.

She was speaking with someone—the owner, Goro assumed—outside when he reached the address that she’d texted him the night before. He picked up his pace to a slight jog and appeared at her side. “Good morning Sae-san!” Goro greeted with a deep bow. He turned and gave another to their client for the day. “Nishiyama-san, my apologies. I hope I didn’t keep you two waiting too long.”

“Not at all. You’re early actually, Akechi-kun,” Sae assured him. That made sense. He should’ve noticed the lack of other personnel milling about. He and Sae usually liked to arrive ahead of the crowd anyway to minimize the time spent with so-called co-workers who didn’t respect them.

“Akechi-kun…” Nishiyama repeated to herself and Goro felt a lump forming in his throat. This was always the worst part. Getting recognized on the street was far less common nowadays, but clients tended to hear the name and made the connection pretty quickly. Particularly clients in the demographic who watched talk shows quite often, such as stay-at-home mothers, though the sheer scale of the Phantom Thieves phenomenon put the entire country’s eyes on him, regardless of age or gender. Goro simply had to hope that people were grateful enough that he was investigating their problems that they would simply say _that TV detective_ rather than _Shido Masayoshi’s bastard son_. 

The latter had happened once; the person had then tried to cover up their tracks by rambling on and on about how sorry they felt for him and _oh, it must have been so hard for you being abused and shamed by such a powerful man_ , which only made Goro want to throw himself off a bridge. Sae had mercifully sent him to get something from her car that he knew she didn’t actually leave in there. She was too much of a perfectionist for that. She had just been giving him a chance to step away and calm himself down a bit. After sitting down in the passenger seat and making sure he did set an alarm for his meds, Goro had plucked a pen from a cupholder to bring back to her.

“Oh! Weren’t you that cute detective boy on TV?” Nishiyama asked. 

Goro sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, a mannerism that he did _not_ pick up from Akira regardless of what Takamaki said. “Yes, I was,” he replied. He never knew how else to respond to that. Any additional comments that weren’t alarming in nature would sound fake.

Nishiyama led them both into the dining room and gestured for them to take a seat. Right away, Goro noticed the broken window and the glass shards scattered on the hardwood floors. It was tall enough for a person to climb through. That must have been the point of entry. The china cabinet in the corner was shattered too, though most of the glass had fallen into the display itself instead of on the ground. Plate stands lining shelves indicated the absence of a formidable collection. If the china was the only thing stolen, then it was possible that the culprit had simply been looking for places to rob, had seen a bunch of expensive plates through a large window, and just went for it.

Sae took out a pen and a notepad, and Goro did the same. It might have been more practical to only have Goro be the notetaker since he was there to assist her, but they both saw value in having two written interpretations that they could compare later. “Nishiyama-san,” Sae began, “tell us everything you did last night.”

“My daughter plays the flute. Last night, she had a band concert and the whole family attended. We left the house around six-thirty and the concert started at seven. It lasted for about two hours.” Goro idly wondered how old her daughter was because he didn’t know how anyone could sit through two whole hours of small children squeaking on woodwind and brass instruments. Kids at the orphanage would call him names for crying too loud at night (insensitive little fuckers), and yet it was perfectly acceptable for them to honk out broken nursery rhymes on the recorder at three in the morning.

“What time do you think you got home?” Sae asked. If the culprit knew about the concert, then they knew they had at least two hours. If the Nishiyama family had been out significantly longer and he and Sae had reason to believe the robber was aware of this beforehand, then they could assume that this was someone who knew the family to some degree.

“Well, you know kids. After a big show or a game, there’s this excitement buzzing around. They just wanna stay as long as they can talking to their friends and congratulating each other.” Goro’s teeth worried at his lip and he kept his comment about how _no, he didn’t know what that was like_ to himself. “It’s a tradition for them all to go out for mochi too. I think we got home around ten.”

They both jotted that down in their notes. “And what exactly was stolen?” Goro gestured to the cabinet. “Besides the dishes, I mean.”

He got a bit of the _wow, you actually are a qualified detective_ face from Nishiyama. Whether the expression annoyed or flattered him had yet to be determined. The implied prior doubt irked him, but her impressed shock was like a milder, more positive version of the looks that shadows had in the metaverse upon being ambushed. It was validating in a sense to know he had skill separate from the celebrity persona. “I’m not sure if they took anything else yet. We didn’t have a chance to check. As soon as we got home and saw the window my husband called the police.”

Understandable. They each asked a few more questions and were told most of the other valuable stuff was in the master bedroom. Nishiyama was kind enough to offer to get them something to eat, but they declined. Goro already had a bento box lovingly packed by his boyfriend stored in his briefcase. He said this without revealing the gender of his partner, and Nishiyama cooed, “Oh, that’s exactly what I do for my husband! How sweet.”

The drawer was only accessible with a key, but it looked like it’d been forced open. In fact, _only_ that drawer looked like it’d been messed with. Granted, the top drawer was a logical first choice, and there’d be little reason to go forcing anything else open once a jackpot was discovered. It was either a reasonable but lucky guess or the culprit knew when they’d be out. This did, however, rule out his previous guess that the thief just saw nice plates and booked it. This had to have been planned in advance. As Goro’s list of notes got longer, he got black ink all over his wrist. The joys of being left-handed.

“Akechi-kun.” Goro blinked himself out of his thoughts and faced Sae. “You seem deep in thought. What are you thinking?”

“With the drawer forced open, this person could have taken all of it easily. But they didn’t. And it’s not like they grabbed the first few items either. I can’t discern a consistent pattern in the empty boxes. Of course, this could just mean that they took the jewels they found the most aesthetically pleasing,” Goro explained, “but I suspect something more personal. One of the earring boxes had a note written inside; it was a gift from Nishayama-san’s grandfather and therefore holds great value to her personally. That could still be a coincidence—perhaps our culprit and her grandfather share similar tastes—but the thief must have known that no one would be home for a while to think that they could pull this off without being caught. So, this person would need to know their daughter was a flutist and had a concert _and_ know that the rest of the family would go to support her.” Maybe one of the foster families would’ve kept him if he’d given them the idea of leaving him home so he could unleash all his bat shit craziness on anyone who tried to take their shit. Being a rabid attack dog might’ve been a kinder fate than that of a teenage hitman.

“I came to a similar conclusion,” Sae agreed. She patted him lightly on the back. “Good work. How about we take a lunch break and come back afterward?”

Had he been anyone else, Sae would have objected to them eating in her pristine car. But they were birds of a feather in that they were both meticulously neat eaters, so Goro slid into the passenger seat and opened up his briefcase. Any crumbs that he happened to drop would just fall in there anyway, leaving the floor of her car untouched and untainted. Goro had no idea when Akira actually made these lunches for him, especially since he was such a notoriously late sleeper. He just handed them to Goro with a kiss before he went out the door. 

The boxes always had separate sections for the different components of the meal because Goro didn’t like it when it all got mixed together. He liked order, and it looked cuter that way. The selection of foods was never exactly the same either, partially because Akira was trying to diversify his cooking repertoire beyond Leblanc curry. Today, Akira used one of the larger boxes they owned, which seemed promising. Goro licked his lips and pried open his lunch.

In separate compartments he had two dumplings, ried rice, a cup of soy sauce, and chikuwa cucumbers. All delicious, but none of those were nearly as interesting as what Akira used to fill one of the larger square sections. Goro scrunched up his face.

Sae looked over at his lunch. “What is _that_?” she asked. Goro sighed and ran a hand through his bangs.

“Akira discovered these... _things_ while shopping who-knows-where and has decided that they are the funniest thing ever,” Goro grumbled. He extracted the plush from his lunch and read the pink post-it stuck to its hair. 

_“Have a nice day at work!! I love you!!_ ♡♡♡ _”_

The disgusted sneer fell off Goro’s face and gave way to a soft smile. He was like the hopeless female lead in a romance novel, completely smitten by the trope of leaving love letters and writing sweet nothings to be stored and collected. Which he did, gently sticking it on the inside of his briefcase where he could find it again later.

The first time Goro had expressed his fears that Akira would leave after realizing that Goro wasn’t good enough for him, his therapist squinted at him and said, “ _Really?_ ” before working with him to find a way to manage this particular anxiety. Goro already knew he had trouble trusting people. After so many disappointments, he sometimes swore that he would die if one more person abandoned him. The idea he and his therapist settled on was a scrapbook. Goro thought that sounded infantile, so he started thinking of it as documenting evidence. Evidence that there were people in his life now who cared about him and wanted him around. It was filled with photos and cards and notes. They were all things that he could flip through when depression swept a leg under his feet and pressed his face against the floor until he caved in to despair. He kept the book in the drawer of the night table next to their bed so he could pull it out at any time. This note from Akira would be slipped in next to the pictures of them in matching outfits that Takamaki had picked out.

Sae shook her head, “He loves you so much that he had to get more of you.” That was a way of interpreting it. Goro didn’t think that one of these plushies would fit in his tome of evidence, but perhaps he should keep one handy to use as a stress ball or something. Or maybe he should absolutely not do that because it would only make Akira more powerful.

A bit of the adhesive from the note was caught in the plush’s hair. Goro frowned. He took off one of his gloves just to get it off with his nail. Not that he found this spherical demon pleasant in any regard. It would just be a shame for something that Akira had spent actual currency on to get dirty so quickly. Preserving it was just economical. There was nothing sappy or sentimental to it.

“They were a product of my heightened popularity as the Detective Prince after the… um…” Goro winced, “the Okumura incident.” Forcing the words out was like pulling teeth. He wouldn’t lie. The guilt Goro felt with regard to his death came much less from the demise of a man who would willingly sell off his daughter as a sex slave to a lecherous sleaze bag but from the evident sorrow that it brought to said daughter. Looking at the Okumura heiress in the eye sometimes made him wish that she’d just take that comically large ax of hers and give him what he deserved. Instead, she gave him a mutual armistice and, one time, a homemade apple pie. Apparently, she actually remembered him randomly blurting out while in Mementos that he only ate single apples for lunch, so after everything that happened, she just felt compelled to contribute to fixing his diet. Okumura informed him in a voice even sugarier than her dessert that this contained ten whole apples. It was delicious. Thinking about what he’d done to her made him wish that she took a bit more recipe inspiration from Snow White’s evil queen.

“Really,” Sae said. “I suppose I was too caught up in trying to catch the Phantom Thieves to be paying attention. I started seeing a lot less of you around then too.” They’d had that conversation before, Sae insisting that it was her duty as an adult in power to realize that Goro was struggling back then and that she had failed him. Goro dismissed her qualms quickly. She had no reason to think the insufferable little prick she was working with was a murderer and needed an intervention.

“I had to turn off notifications for my social media because fans kept tagging me in pictures with their,” he did air quotes with his gloved fingers, “ _royal investigator orbs_. I tried to sue the company for blatantly using my likeness without my permission for profit, but I wasn’t allowed to take legal action because it was deemed beneficial to keep up the momentum of the hype.”

Goro kept his chopsticks in his mouth a bit longer after taking a bite so he could think about that for a bit. Suing the company now that he was merely a memory in the public conscious instead of a constant presence, whether superficially loved or universally loathed, would be of no detriment to him, but the lack of demand and resulting lack of supply rendered it a pointless endeavor at this point. If they became a hot item for no reason in a few years, _then_ he would take action. His dumpling tasted a little sweeter with the thought of the future. He never thought that he’d have one. Being able to even conceptualize that his life would go on beyond what was immediately ahead of him proved simultaneously daunting and pleasant. Accepting the role of Akira’s husband didn’t sound half bad despite the fact that it scared the shit out of him.

“Well, I can see why,” Sae said. “They’re very cute.” At Goro’s gawk of utter betrayal, she laughed and mussed up his hair. In the front mirror, he could see rogue fluffed up locks sticking out in a few directions and grumpily tried to pat them down. “He really loves you, you know. I can tell just by how much care he puts into your lunch.”

The box in Goro’s hands was carefully packed and selected to be conscious of his pet peeves and food preferences. Akira even taped the chopsticks to the top so they didn’t fall into the food. It was said that the devil was in the details, but Goro would argue that it was the opposite. Details swept in like an army of angels sculpted from white marble and sunlight, all ascending on the demon who rooted himself in Goro’s psyche. The angels enacted a coup, overthrowing the foul dictator, if only temporarily, who censored anything that might make Goro start to believe he was enough. 

“I suppose so,” Goro replied.

The investigation resumed until about dinner time. Nishiyama allowed them to keep all of the empty jewelry boxes to analyze for fingerprints, which was unlikely—Goro knew the benefits of gloves—or other DNA traces. It would be rather convenient if their culprit happened to have really bad dandruff, but also kinda gross. As their time for the day came to a close, Nishiyama advised that he keep that sweet girlfriend of his for as long as he could. Goro knew that she could not be blamed for the heteronormativity prevalent in Japanese culture and the world, but he had to resist the urge to conveniently pull up the leg of his pants and reveal his rainbow socks.

His bike was exactly where he left it, safe and sound in the metal parking rack. Goro unlocked the chain that he had used to tether it with a pink key next to his actual house key. He swung his leg over the seat and started cycling down the Tokyo streets. Traveling like this was nice. No one would try to stop a cyclist in motion to haggle him, yet he could still potentially spot people he knew and greet them. That was quite uncommon due to his social ineptitude, but if he saw one of the former Phantom Thieves, he would at least say hello. 

The strangest instance was a time when he had happened upon the younger Sakura wandering the streets with a mild panic on her face. Goro wouldn’t consider himself the most comforting presence by a longshot, but he knew a good deal about being really fucking anxious a lot of the time. He had pulled up next to her and started walking alongside her, pulling his bike along and asking if she was alright. Next thing he knew, he was riding his bike to an action figure store with a petite gremlin child on his back ordering him to trek onward. She was small but he was, as Akira once said with a shit-eating grin, _a funky little noodle twink_ , so his back hurt like a bitch afterward. But Sakura had bounced out of the store with some anime figurine that he’d never heard of and told him, “You make a much better transport than you do a late-game twist supervillain, Akechi. I’ll have to summon you more often.” Goro’s spine had wept at the thought, but Sakura’s next comment was “Holy shit, you’re actually smiling. Either Akira’s secretly behind me or I just completed the _Befriend the Angry Corvid Boy_ side quest without realizing it.” Goro had no idea what the fuck that meant, but he laughed and happily suffered through an equally back-breaking trip to the Sakura residence.

The biking playlist Goro had queued up tonight was interrupted by the custom text tone he set for Akira. Everyone else had the same preset sound that he found the least annoying, but for Akira, he had a little jingle of a song that they both thought was phenomenal on their Jazz Jin dates. Staring at his phone while biking would surely result in a crash, so Goro pulled over on the sidewalk.

**Akira:** hello most GOROgeous boy on the planet (get it)

**Akira:** im gonna be out later than i thought. beef bowl place is p busy tonight

**Goro:** Should I plan on ordering takeout for the two of us?

**Akira:** nah no need i left some stuff for you in the fridge with microwave instructions

**Goro:** And what of your food.

**Akira:** beef

**Goro:** I see. I look forward to your return later tonight.

**Akira:** the whole time i serve that beef i’ll be dreaming of your thiccq thighs uwu

**Goro:** Oh.

**Akira:** hehe i love that i know exactly what your face must look like rn

**Akira:** blushy squishy boy (о´∀`о)

**Goro:** I’ll see you later. I love you.

**Akira:** love you too squishy thigh boy

Opening his phone camera presented Goro with his beet-red cheeks and pink-tinted ears. If asked whether the sigh he released was one of annoyance or immeasurable fondness, he would not know which was the most accurate assessment. Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he and his flushed face rode back to their apartment.

When he lived alone in his old place, coming home to an empty apartment was protocol. In fact, it would be much, much weirder if there _was_ someone else already there waiting for him, especially since he was the only one who had a key. Well, possibly aside from Shido. That douchebag would have never passed up the opportunity to lord the fact that Goro had relied on him over the detective's head. After his arrest and trial, it hadn't been so bad. The knowledge that Shido was paying for his apartment as a penance for abusing him instead of keeping Goro under his foot changed how he looked at the barren little place. But it didn't fend off his memories of stumbling into darkness after picking off the grocery list of targets that Shido had for him. Neither did it satiate the need for human connection, a hunger that was ever-present but only became needier now that he'd gotten a taste. Being emotionally reliant on his Roomba was not sustainable. Even he knew that.

Returning to the new place that he shared with Akira was a different experience. Despite the lack of a beautiful saintly boyfriend or talking cat waiting to greet him and ask him about his day, it carried none of the previous loneliness that his old place did. Every piece of furniture, dish in the sink, and coat on their little rack was a reminder that these rooms were lived in. On the wall right above where Goro usually put his shiny oxfords next to Akira's edgy combat boots was a frame containing several pictures of them at the beach together. Goro remembered the absolute horror he felt when Akira suggested that he wear those ridiculous pink arm floaties to resolve the issue of him never learning how to swim. Even worse was the betrayal when he discovered the pictures of the two of them in the water, Goro with his terrible glove tan exposed to the world, chasing Akira through the ocean with a water gun and the deranged look of a serial killer. Akira, being Akira, looked at it and said, "Awww, look at your cute little face." 

He'd never admit it now, but in a weird way, he kind of loved these unflattering pictures of them. They were the total opposite of how his life used to be, filtered and catered to be palatable to the masses when deep down he was boiling over with unhinged self-loathing. These candid shots illustrated a story of two real people doing real things with real reactions. Maybe his sunburn was terrible and he looked like an idiot tripping in the sea, but the organic memories were reassuring in their own way.

Similarly, the fridge in his old apartment had been a wasteland, rarely stocked apart from a few apples and occasionally a microwave meal for one. But he somehow always burned those, so he limited them to save money. Stubborn pride kept him trying every once in a while though. Now that he lived with Akira, Akira never let the fridge get even remotely close to empty—he’d rather die, it seemed. Their stock was a mix of items for the two of them, Akira's classic curry favorites paired alongside Goro's secret stash of dinosaur chicken nuggets. Formerly secret anyway. The first time he purchased them and tried to covertly cook them, they ended up crispy, inedible, and black. Akira found out from the stench and, as usual, declared that Goro was the most precious bean of a human in existence and that trying too hard to be an adult was pointless when Goro had already been outed as a Featherman fanboy. The nuggets became a regular after that.

Goro opened up the fridge to grab the food Akira had left for him and was met with several warped depictions of his own face. All the other shelves were completely overflowing and crammed, likely to make room for Akira's little setup. There was a Tupperware container as promised, but surrounding it in a tiny summoning circle were three goddamn orb plushies.

"He bought _more_?!" Goro asked the inside of the fridge. Because they were inanimate objects with identical thread smiles on their chubby little faces, the orbs offered no verbal reply. Their mere presence gave answer enough.

Pushing one of the orbs aside, Goro extracted his food. Of course, Akira left a note:

“ _Hey there, handsome. I know you like puzzles, so here's a shitty one_

_To figure out how long you need to heat this up, take the number of gorgeous gorbs I left for you and cut it in half_

_If you're just too tired to do math, please text me and I'll tell you the answer, I don't want you to burn it and have nothing to eat._

_I'll be back. Take care of our gorb sons for me. And yourself, of course”_

Three go- _orbs_. That meant he needed to heat up his food for a minute and a half. He scooped it out of the container and into a bowl, then plugged the time into the square device. It started its consistent, electronic hum, which at least meant that Goro didn't break it in the process. That was a good start. His culinary ineptitude bothered him in the same way that being bad at anything bothered him, but he was kind of at peace with the idea of Akira cooking for him for the rest of his life. Despite his general insecurities about whether Akira would _really_ stick around for the long haul, Goro had accepted that if he got married at all, there was no way it would be to someone else. 

As his food heated up, Goro returned his attention to the little menaces taking up space in his fridge. Logically, he knew that they had no autonomy or free motion and, therefore, no control over their facial expressions, but their serene little smiles seemed to taunt him. Goro removed them from the fridge with a tired sigh and rested them on the counter. One rogue orb almost rolled into the sink, but Goro stopped it with his arm just in time. Not that he cared. Getting them dirty would just be a hassle. And Akira would be sad. That fool seemed to think that he was a father, yet Goro saw no resemblance aside from the fact that both Akira and the orbs aimed to mess with him. Accomplices in the devious crime of making him terribly flustered.

Sitting in the fridge had made the orbs cold to the touch, so much so that Goro could feel it a bit through his gloves. The weather outside wasn't bad. It was cool enough for Goro to comfortably keep his coat on as long as he wore a short-sleeved shirt under it. But cycling took effort and he got hot easily. That was his justification for taking two chilly orbs and holding them up to his cheeks, cool and soft to the touch.

The microwave beeped and he set them back down with their third little triplet. Goro took his hot plate back to his normal seat and began to eat. Akira's instructions were right, it was just the perfect temperature for eating. And yet, he felt slightly uneasy. He looked at the counter and the three sets of identical eyes. Staring at him. Soulless and empty.

He did not manage to convince himself that getting up to turn the gorbs so that they no longer faced him was in any way rational, but he did it anyway.

Once he finished eating, he put his dishes away. He did not take the orbs to their bedroom with him. Absolutely not. What a ridiculous notion.

Goro opened up his briefcase and took out his laptop. He grinned at the sight of the sleek case; Kitagawa had helped him make a sticker of the same "A" logo on his briefcase that he put on his laptop. Akira kept showing him cute stickers like the ones Sakura had covered her computer in, and many of them were very tempting, especially the ones with little sayings about grumpiness and the pride flag made of different colored lightsabers. While indulging in such silliness sounded delightful, he still needed to be professional, especially when the files on his computer mostly had to do with investigations. If he felt like he needed to, or could, buy a second computer for exclusively personal use, then he would consider it.

There were a few missed emails, one from Sae with a picture of her notes, a couple from brands he subscribed to, and one from his therapist. He opened the one from his therapist first. She had his number, so it was odd that she'd use a less directly accessible means of contacting him. To his relief, it was just a link that would automatically add the next two months of appointments to his digital calendar, complete with alerts to remind him of when to start leaving. At the bottom, she also attached a video of some very cute birds fussing around, which made him giggle a bit.

The little serotonin boost provided by these cockatiels singing a pop song he didn't know made him feel more motivated to start tonight's work. It wasn't anything too grueling. His job was simply to write up a report on all their findings on the investigation today because no one wanted to be deciphering his jagged shorthand while they were trying to compile information. Technically, he didn't _need_ to do this, but he really didn't need to give any of his "associates" another reason to scrutinize him.

As Goro approached his desk with the booting-up computer, he stopped in his tracks and released a groan. Like the little elf he apparently was (Joker's metaverse footwear certainly supported that theory—in Goro's opinion, it also gave Akira no right to dunk on his very cool and stylish claw shoes), Akira left some snacks and water bottles for him. And surprise, surprise. Even more fucking orbs.

The display was like something the cleaning staff at a Destinyland hotel might dream up: orbs carefully balanced on top of the bottles and hanging off the bottles’ necks from the little chains attached to their heads. Goro certainly did not take out his phone and take a picture. In the center, just in front of a pyramid built from five little orbs, was another note.

“ _Don't forget to hydrate and eat! :)”_

The most creative thing was the _second_ pyramid, this one with seven orbs, propped up against the wall. Akira had cut out a piece of paper into the shape of a speech bubble and taped it so that it appeared to be coming out of the stitched mouth of the plush at the top. It said, " _We're cheering you on!!!!!_ " and there was also a shitty drawing of what appeared to be Akira as a cheerleader, complete with tiny ponytails, pom poms, and a little skirt.

Counting the one in his briefcase, this made for sixteen plushies. Goro was very much tempted to look up how much one cost so he could reprimand Akira for such a silly financial decision, but he had no idea where he found them. Additionally, Goro doubted the price was all that high given that the era of the Detective Prince was long gone. Good fucking riddance too.

Part of him wanted to knock down the arrangement like a bitchy cat and watch all the orbs roll onto the floor where Roomba-san might eventually decide they looked fun to push around. But he would be the bigger person and leave them in peace. He could not blame the sons for the sins of the father.

Goro rested the plushies from the fridge in his lap—merely for safekeeping obviously—and got to work. The report wasn't overly grueling. He typed up a bulleted list of everything he had found and then expanded on each point. He almost added in all his pleasant interactions with Nishiyama and how sweet she was before realizing that an assessment of her character had no bearing on the investigation.

Or did it. If she was normally as lovely as she'd been to two strange investigator people poking their beaks around her house, then it begged the question of what kind of person would steal from her. She seemed to have a good relationship with her husband too, judging from her comment about Goro's bento and the fact that they’d made sure to attend their daughter’s performance together. Goro struggled to imagine that nice lady pursuing a relationship with some foul man, but he also knew that he was the offspring of an angel and Satan's poisoned sperm. Thinking about his own birth and the thick black smog surrounding it made Goro want to peel his skin off and let the stuffing fall out.

His fingers stopped hitting the keys. He gathered the orbs from his lap into his arms and squeezed them against his chest. It didn't feel as soothing as wrapping his arms around a living person who petted his hair and told him that they were glad he was born, but it felt leagues better than wrapping his arms around himself and feeling how small he was. 

Jealousy started that little spiral, he knew. His first instinct upon seeing happiness around him was to undermine it somehow and delude himself with bitterness into making himself forget what he didn't have. Goro knew that was a grotesquely self-centered way of looking at the world, to see others' pleasure and instantly think of himself. He tried to remember the exercise his therapist had given him. Whenever he started thinking about things that he didn't have, he should try to come up with a few things he did have to "counter" it. If Goro succeeded, he'd overpower his toxic thought patterns and he would win. He was _awfully_ fond of winning.

He knew Nishiyama's husband was nice because she compared the two of them to him and Akira. Goro had Akira. Akira made him food and left little notes around the house with silly displays to cheer him up. All these little things took time and effort, so Akira must therefore at least like him. Sae's earlier words came back: Akira loved Goro so much he just had to get more of him. Goro looked at the little plushies in his hands. Akira thought that they were cute. Sure, there was some objective truth to that, but Goro found them to be a bit unnervingly dead inside. 

But that was also reflective of their views on Goro himself. Akira had said that he was beautiful and, while Goro would say some of his features were conventionally attractive, he still disagreed.

Goro grabbed one of the water bottles that Akira had left for him, took a swig, and looked at his little stack of cheerleaders. Okay, maybe they were really cute and he was just a bitter old hag… even though he was still a minor. He needed to go the fuck to sleep, but he also couldn't let down Sae and this triangle that comprised spheres sitting on his desk. The words came naturally with motivation, and he finished his report in ten minutes. After spending another five reading it over, he submitted it and slammed his laptop shut. His lap was still acting as a nest for three little orbs. Goro took them to the bathroom with him and propped them on a shelf.

Little did he know, he was reuniting them with another of their kind. Nestled among all of his skincare products was an orb, of course, this one carrying the message:

_"Our son is cute, but we know where he gets his dashing good looks from_

_Hint: I am also sexy, but it is not me"_

Goro snorted. That was such an incredibly Akira thing to say. He moved this orb to join the other three and went through his whole routine. Once he had finished scrubbing his face with ten different creams, he thoroughly washed his hands before taking the gorbs back to his room. 

No matter what Akira said, he would stand by the fact that his matching silk pajama sets were infinitely better than Akira's assortment of sweatpants and old shirts in various thrilling colors such as black, grayer black, and very dark green. And no, getting your initials embroidered on your pajamas was not dorky. It just added more of a personal touch to them. Goro selected a pair in baby blue with pale yellow accents. It reminded him of Robin Hood but in a more tasteful and subtle way.

After removing his clothes and throwing them in their shared laundry hamper, Goro opened a drawer in the pursuit of clean underwear. His underwear was there, just like it was supposed to be, but something else was awry. Where there were supposed to be pairs of black and argyle socks, he found rows of round faces smiling at him. Goro pulled the drawer out further—so far that it nearly fell out of the dresser altogether—and found more lurking behind the initial batch. Where the fuck were his socks.

Goro resigned himself to the fact that his boyfriend was a trickster at heart and his socks were probably in the freezer or something equally stupid. But that was an issue for the morning when he woke up. With clean underwear and comfy jammies, Goro finally approached his bed to get some goddamn sleep. On his side of the bed, there was a little bump up by his pillow. Goro pulled down the sheet and found the final orb sleeping soundly with his eyes permanently wide open, along with the final message:

" _Don't forget to set your alarm and take your night meds! I'll be back to spoon you before you know it_ "

A toggled switch and a bottle of water washed down Akira's wishes in one smooth gulp. Goro screwed the caps back on and flopped onto his bed, breathing in the lingering scent of coffee and his boyfriend on the other half of the sheets. Even their sweet citrus detergent couldn’t overpower the homey aroma of his beloved barista. It was too strong, too deeply ingrained in the fabrics and the individual threads that composed them. Crawling under the soft blankets, Goro took the resting orb and drew it into his chest. The low neckline of his silk shirt let him feel it against his bare skin, plush and comforting. With the covers pulled up over his shoulders, no one would see him sleeping with it like a child with their favorite stuffed animal.

When he was little, still wide-eyed and oblivious to all the immeasurable horror that the hateful gods had in store for him, Goro had a toy like that. It wasn’t nearly as well made or detailed as these replicas of himself, but it served the same purpose. His mother had said that she bought the toy for him when he was first born. It was a sweet pale blue kitty with a soft blanket for a body. Simple in design, but little Goro had carried this thing everywhere. This resulted in it getting dirty and worn with time, but his mom always washed it when she had enough money to afford the good fabric softener just for him. And even when she didn’t, Goro held it in his arms without fail every night. By the time of her passing, Goro had outgrown his attachment. But when the men in the dark suits told him to pack his things, he couldn’t find his plushie. He knew that he was supposed to be strong and that big boys didn’t cry, but he just needed to be held and he knew that none of these apathetic people would do that for a sniffly child.

The creak of the door, despite Akira’s best stealthy efforts, woke Goro up from his light slumber. Akira didn’t turn on the bedroom light, but the glow from the other room seeped through the open doorway. Goro squinted and blocked it out with his arm, but he could still make out the warm smile on Akira’s face. The beef bowl place must have worked him hard. He looked completely spent.

“Welcome home,” Goro greeted sleepily. He didn’t sit up in bed, and neither did Akira expect him to. The thief walked over to the bed, leaned over, and kissed his cheek.

“Hey,” Akira said back, his breath in Goro’s ear. He stood upright and set his bag down on the floor. “How was your day? Did anything interesting happen?”

“It was overall pretty good. My client thinks that you’re my future housewife, which I suppose isn’t entirely inaccurate,” Goro replied. Then, he remembered something. His soft smile warped into something more skeptical, narrowed eyes and a frown. “Where the fuck are my socks, Joker.”

Akira grinned, “You found the gorbs, I see.” Morgana chose that moment to leap out of Akira’s bag on the floor and directly onto Goro’s gut, which made Goro release a startled “oomph!” He felt the dumplings from lunch in there.

“I had to spend the whole day sitting in your smelly socks!” Morgana whined, “They stink like—” he scrunched up his little cat face “—moldy cheese and seaweed.”

Goro craned his neck to look inside the bag. Sure enough, he spotted argyle rolls resting at the bottom. He scoffed, “That’s completely absurd. All of my socks have not been worn since their last wash and our detergent smells like oranges. Clearly a vastly different aroma from any sort of dairy product or seafood.”

Morgana made a haughty little “hmph!” sound. “My nose says otherwise, Akechi Goro. And my nose is never wrong. Now, go the fuck to sleep, both of you.” His weight was lifted from Goro’s stomach as he moved to curl up at the foot of the bed.

With one last ruffle of Goro’s bangs, Akira parted to begin his own night routine. It was childish, Goro knew, to feel like he needed to close his eyes to give him some privacy. Even more childish was him committing to doing so, only to crack his eyes open whenever he heard rustling, just to get a little peak. That was, until Akira removed his jeans without warning (and why would he give any warning? He didn’t know that Goro was sneaking glances like a weirdo instead of attempting to heed Morgana’s demands), effectively making Goro hide his red face in the pillow and shift to lie on his stomach. God, he was hopeless sometimes.

Akira moved into the bathroom, Goro could tell from the distant sound of running water and the soft glow from the open door. While there were no witnesses, Goro took the plush orb out from under the covers and placed him on the night table. Hopefully, given how dark it was, Akira would not notice that it wasn’t there before. He’d just slide in from his side of the bed and sneak his arms around Goro’s waste, intertwining their legs.

As prophesied, Akira did just that, cuddling up to Goro’s back and pressing his lips on the nape of his neck. It tickled a bit, and Goro’s giggle was stifled by his pillow. Akira rolled Goro’s body over so that they were face to face. His arms released Goro’s waist, but only to cup his face and pull him into a kiss. Goro deepened it, parting his lips and letting Akira run his fingers through his hair. Akira’s hair was a messy thicket of dark locks, but Goro sunk his hands into it as they went in for a second kiss.

When they let go, a thin trail of saliva hung between their mouths. Judging from Akira’s laugh, Goro’s face must have been one of disgust. Akira gave him one last peck on the lips for the night, like a ribbon planted atop a wrapped present. And then, the unexpected that Goro should have expected occurred.

From somewhere within the blankets, Akira pulled out an orb plush. Goro couldn’t quite make out its features in the dark lighting, but there was no mistaking that spherical lad. “Gorb wants a goodnight kiss too,” Akira said.

“I don’t know where the fuck you were hiding that, but I am _not_ giving it a goodnight kiss,” Goro declared, turning his back to Akira in a huff.

Yet, of course, Akira persisted. He put the “juvenile” in “juvenile delinquent”, making the little orb hop up Goro’s arm and shoulder as if it was capable of motion independent of any external forces such as the hands of a pretty idiot thief. “But, babe,” Akira pleaded, “it’s our _child_.”

Goro turned only his head and narrowed his eyes. “You cannot be serious.”

“He even has your eyes.”

Goro released a heavy sigh, took the orb from Akira, and shifted to face him again. “If I kiss this thing, will it make you happy.” When Akira nodded, Goro sighed a heavier sigh, which sounded like rocks being poured out of a bag. He kissed its fluffy brown hair and handed it back to Akira. “Satisfied?”

“Very. Goodnight, Goro.”

“Goodnight, Akira.”

…

“ _Goodnight, gorb._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos make my day <3


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